Taking What You Can Get
by blackpond
Summary: Sheryl's reflections on her relationship with Barma.


Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Hearts nor do I have any rights to it.

Sometimes, on nights like this or during boring meetings about Pandora affairs Sheryl liked to sit in her chair acting normal, mundane, like she cared about the topic of conversation all the while being reminded of the soreness that permeated her being from her trysts with Ru.

All the world may have seen her as a young Duchess, now in her late 20's, having just inherited the title a few short months ago, she had been considered green and most likely easy to manipulate. Some knew better. Others didn't. They should've known however that Rainsworths weren't weak little flowers who wilted at the slightest provocation but rather strong climbing roses who could take root in any vase they found themselves in.

Sheryl had quickly asserted that _she_ would not be pushed around. She had been preparing for this title, this duty of Rainsworth women, for years. It had almost broke her, at times seeming insurmountable, nearly impossible and overwhelming but through a lot of nights spent up and pacing, biting her tongue, an unhappy marriage, perhaps a missed opportunity and giving birth to a beautiful young daughter, Sheryl Rainsworth had found her footing and managed to find her grace as well.

Her grandmother had told her it would be one hell of a journey, and it was, and that it would test her, and it did. But she believed that she came out of it all for the better. That she had a stable footing now, a steady pedestal that she could depend on, that she had achieved a great many things from both within herself and without.

And now she was prepared to take something that she had always wanted: Ru.

And she had.

They'd been doing this for weeks now. Nobody knew a thing about it. She thought that he understood her reasoning and when she had approached him that night, after another tired, dull party, he had agreed to it, said that he accepted her reasoning and complied with her request that they keep their affair a secret. He looked hurt by it but never the less he complied.

"I'll take what I can get." Ru had said solemnly, evenly in the shadows of night as they stood in a half dark hallway.

_That sort of manner is very typical of Ru now_, Sheryl thought.

After she had married, Rufus had quietly retired to a world of almost seclusion, and though she suspected that he was not entirely happy there, in his secluded little world that he himself had created, she didn't question him about it because she felt that she no longer had that right. She half expected him to reject her when she'd approached him that night, to maybe laugh at her, cherishing being able to mete out the same embarrassment and hurt that she had meted out to him. But on the contrary Rufus's quiet, solemn, lonely bachelors life had apparently softened him, made him loosen his standards.

There had been a time when he had said that he would have all of her or none of her. That he could not settle for less.

Well, now he was settling for less except he didn't seem to mind it all that much, in fact he was doing it with great gusto and flourish, a greedy soul doing just what he'd said he'd do: Taking everything that he could get.

And so this elegant, solemn, lonely, arrogant, intelligent man became the _other man_ for _her_ and he did it with a smug smirk on his face and was happy to be her secret, her escape, even if he didn't have_ all_ of her like he'd originally wanted, so much had the years changed him that he would now yield, molding and mutilating his ideals like that and no longer be bothered by it. Or maybe it's just that he wanted her that badly.

He wasn't entirely sure.

Neither was she in all honesty.

She wasn't sure, just as he was not sure whether her desire for him was love, or simply an unchecked passion, that she wanted him and now she could have him and that was all.

She knew that she wanted Ru, had wanted him for a long time, had had to stuff that want down in herself for a long time. Now she didn't have to do that. Maybe that was all. She cared for him and she had known since childhood that Ru cared for her. After all it didn't take her long to discover that for her Ru would do just about anything, I mean he'd even stooped down to being the lover, the other man, just for her. That spoke pretty much for itself.

She also wasn't sure if it was true but, despite his being a recluse living on his estate a little ways out of town he was gossiped about steadily and she'd heard that he never had any females about him.

People were beginning to say that he was gay. And he did nothing to quiet the rumors. When he was in public he was either alone or with a servant.

People said he was weird, eccentric, conceited, not to be trusted, after all his ancestor hailed from _that _country, it was something that still stained himself and the Barma family in some people's eyes.

One evening, after not seeing Rufus for months, shortly after her marriage, she had cornered him at a party.

Rumors were running rampant about that time.

He was sitting alone in a dark corner on a sofa.

She sat down beside him.

They sat for a long while in silence, Sheryl with her ram-rod ladies posture and Rufus slumped on the couch like it was the most natural thing to do, though he did look a bit like a sulking child. He was picking at the weak end of the sofa arm.

Sheryl sighed.

"So is it true that you prefer men?" She had asked him point blankly.

He had stopped what he was doing and stared straight ahead of him for 4 whole seconds before returning his attention to picking at the couch.

"So what if I do? I don't see how it could possibly be of any import to thee, Lady Sheryl Rainsworth."

His words were like ice to her and she felt hurt and reproached and red all over. She was certain that she must've been breaking out into hives on her chest, which she often did when she was very upset. She was going to leave but then he looked over at her and so she looked at him.

_Yes, childlike had been right_, she thought as she looked over at his slumped down figure and the way his shoes and legs jutted out.

"What's wrong?" He asked coldly. "Is thy husband not as skilled as one of the men in those trashy romance novels that thee used to occupy thy time with?" He arched an eyebrow. "Now thee hast been reduced to this," He said smugly. "conversing with a man who beds other men. Is thy love life really that lacking, Sheryl Rainsworth?"

She was stunned.

She blushed and called him something not very lady like under her breath. This time she really was going to go but he grabbed her hand suddenly and the warmth and gentleness of the action really startled her.

She looked back at him.

He squeezed her hand gently and added softly.

"Dost thou really think I could be with anyone else but thee? I have only ever wanted thee, Sheryl Rainsworth. Neither woman nor man could ever satisfy that one singular desire. I wouldn't even attempt to find relief in another." He leaned forward and brushed his surprisingly smooth, soft lips gently, reverently and attentively across her fingers.

My _lips can't even be that soft_, she thought before realizing that they were in public and so she immediately jerked her hand away.

Rufus seemed regretful that the hand was gone but fine none-the-less.

"There will only ever be thee in my heart." He said in a whisper and for a moment she thought she heard tears in his eyes or a lump in his throat or some really deep sadness that hadn't been there when they were young or when he was an arrogant young teenager, but that had developed right after she had gotten married and he seemed to realize it was really, finally, truly over.

"That part of me," He said softly. "only belongs to thee. And thee hast thrown that away so it shall go unused." He leaned back in his seat with a sigh and reached for a drink that she didn't know that he had.

He looked at the dying embers in the very dark fire place that was so lack luster that Sheryl hadn't even noticed it.

"My passions most assuredly aren't stirred for man nor woman, simply a girl named Sheryl Rainsworth who does not return my love. Rest assured my only passion arises from books. My knowledge sustains me." He smiled darkly, looking at the dying embers. "Thou chaste boy is now more than ever just so, chaste." He looked up. "And waiting."

She had run away then, without another word. Mostly because she was scared and mostly because she wasn't sure what would happen if she stayed.

That night she had made love to her husband such as she had never made love before. She had screamed out his name, she'd made certain of that, but all the while there was another name in her mind and memories of rich bright red auburn hair, tied back by a ribbon, slender, graceful body draped over the sofa, his long elegant hands on hers, his sophisticated, solemn, slightly exotic face, with brown almond eyes with their lovely little slant, all shadowy due to circumstance, lighting and mood. He was a truly lovely man. Lovely in every way.

That night she had conceived little Shelly.

They saw each other afterwards and with the proof of pregnancy showing it was like the last little thread of hope that they could be together had been slashed.

They both knew it.

Another part of Rufus Barma seemed to fall away right in front of Sheryl Rainsworth's eyes.

The arrogant young man was most assuredly dead.

He devoted himself to research, study and "the pursuit of Knowledge" that he had once so proudly and splendidly talked of as one of his chief goals in life. "But not my only" he would always say with a gleam in his eyes that sometimes made Sheryl Rainsworth worry.

It became his only and he did so solemnly, determinedly and resolutely with a great amount of efficiency, without the same happiness and life lust that he had before. It was now simply a lust for knowledge, to possess information and truths. He became a know it all, but in a different sense and spirit than he had been before.

Still though when Sheryl thought about Ru now she thought that he held something for her, something special and peculiar that couldn't be found in others. Sometimes she told herself that perhaps her affections for him stemmed from their relationship as children, that maybe by being with him she felt it brought her closer to what had been a carefree, happy, idyllic time for her, a time when she (and him) had been free.

She told herself that maybe that was the root of her attraction to him. Or else maybe she was just shallow and was taken in by his good looks. After all, Ru was attractive, there was no denying that.

Whatever the reason that night when she'd approached him in the hallway, something in her said that what she felt for the man standing before her was more than caring, more than affection, more than want, more than attraction, but something greater.

What she thought she felt for him was more like love. She thought that maybe she'd always loved Rufus Barma, maybe ever since the beginning, and had just been deceiving herself into believing that it was just fun, that she only_ cared_ for him, that it was not love that she felt but just capricious childhood affections for a boy who had grown up into a man who, when she was around him, made her feel a little too fearful because he hit upon feelings in her that were too close to the truth and not close enough to the world and persona that she was constructing around herself.

Rufus Barma made her feel alive again.

She was in love with Rufus Barma. But she also decided that she did not care about the reasons.

They were together now and that was the end of it.

That night, Rufus Barma shoved her up against a wall and made sweet passionate love to her, taking what he had always wanted: Her.

And she was happy to be taken.

For the first time Sheryl Rainsworth knew what it was to _really _enjoy sex and not think of it simply as a way to feel good, achieve a desired sensation, and to just generally relieve some stress. In fact it was the first time that she had ever really enjoyed it and felt fully satisfied by it. It was even better than the time when she'd conceived Shelly, because this time it wasn't sex with her eyes shut constantly trying to maintain the image of someone not present, constantly trying to conjure up and imagine the actions and feelings of what it would be like with _somebody else_. This time to remember the exact shade of Ru's hair all she had to do was look. His elegant fingers grazing hers were not just a memory but a reality, a sensation which left her skin tingling right then in that moment.

She closed her eyes and felt his impossibly soft lips against hers and knew that they were real, that those hands pushing her skirt up and up and up were_ his_ hands. And when she felt a hard pressure and his thick long length sliding into her she knew that it was really him inside of her and not just some other with the aid of her imagination to help her think of what he _might_ be like, but the sublime reality of his thick cock sliding in and out of her as she heard him grunt sharply into her hair (she no longer _had_ to imagine the sounds that he would make) as she felt herself clenching around him tighter and tighter still, having no idea that she could get _this_ tight or _this_ wet and it still not be enough for her. She had never wanted to be _this_ close to anyone, had never wanted someone in her _this_ much, as much as she now wanted this man in her.

They were standing, or rather he was standing, lifting her, her back to the wall as he thrust and thrust and thrust, one hand fumbling with her dress, trying to move the top part down and failing so he just settled for the way things were and grabbed at her breasts, as he breathed her name into her neck, her shoulder. She was gasping, legs trying to spread wider, clutching his hair, his back when it dawned on her that most likely that this was his first time and she flushed unconsciously tensing tighter around him as she heard him gasp and then moan, his seed spilling into her and leaving her pleasantly filled and she had the odd thought that she didn't want any of him to leak out of her, wishing deeply that she could hold it within her as the warmth flooded in her, making her own orgasm prolonged and sharper. She didn't even know that she could come like this. In the past it had taken either some sort of direct stimulation or else a pillow underneath her, but she'd come instantaneously with Ru.

She realized very suddenly that what she'd been doing with her husband was not sex, but rather a mutual kind of stress relief. She figured that it made sense that sex with Ru would feel this good. After all she felt comfortable around him and they knew each other very well.

After that Rufus nearly collapsed after his release.

They both dropped to the floor and from there ended up going a second time.

They spent much of that evening having sex. In fact neither one of them even thought about getting actual rest until the sun started streaming through the bedroom window and they thought that they probably should, after all both were rather exhausted from their night of love making. They fell asleep in each other's arms.

At this point Sheryl and her husband were sleeping in separate bedrooms, something which happened shortly after the birth of Shelly. In all honesty it wasn't so much an act of malice or loathing so much as a nod of acknowledgement that they had produced an heir, her husband had gained social standing and therefor it seemed ridiculous to pretend that they were something which they were not: In love.

She knew that her husband had carried on occasionally with other women and she choose to be accepting and cordial about it. Even she had carried on a few brief affairs herself with very discreet men but they really had just been stress relief to her, just as her husband had, but now, with Ru, she had something different, more potent, something which filled her with want, a _want_ for him, a _need _for him and so for the first time in all her life, after sex she stayed joined for longer than she had to, she found herself longing not just for _a_ cock, but for _his_ cock. And now when she performed oral sex it wasn't just a 'well I feel like I should reciprocate' sort of ordeal. She wanted Ru in her mouth, filling her, choking her (though he was always too careful to really do that and she hated it along with his insistence that that was something for a man to do to a lady and not the other way around. A custom from his ancestors' country? She wondered).

But regardless whenever she had Rufus in her mouth she loved it, treasured it to the utmost, enjoyed hearing his moans and gasps and barely restrained breath, enjoyed having her hands on such slender milky hips, tears streaming in her eyes as she looked up at him and the pretty conflict as he reached his crisis, his eyes held shut and his face blushing slightly.

And to her amazement when he came she came too, with no stimulation to herself at all. It was like she could feel it too. It was like his pleasure intensified hers too. It left her feeling happy and ecstatic. It was something that had never happened before just as she had never before actually cherished the taste of a man's seed…until Ru. She could say this time that she genuinely loved it, hungered and craved for it. She was sad when she came to the point where she'd milked him for all of it and it was gone.

All of these experiences were new and fresh experiences that she had never felt before. She cherished them. She cherished Ru and the fact that now, for this moment, she could have what she so desired and get away with it.

So she sat in her decadently upholstered chair pretending to follow some inane conversation as she watched Ru across the room, long hair, slender nose and handsome jaw line, both delicate and elegant and yet strong and sturdy. In his beauty there was an almost scrappy sort of determination that attracted her.

He was talking to a group of men.

He stood out from them like a sore thumb or rather the other men were the twisted, ruddy thumbs while he was one long, elegant, slender finger, smooth and pale and utterly different from his surroundings. She loved that he was different from his surroundings. The men around him all wore suits of little distinction, all looking the same, un-inspired things that someone had probably picked out for them, things that were in-style but held no clues as to who the individual might be, while Ru's clothes were different. They had personality and individuality and she knew Ru. He cared about how he looked and he wasn't the type to let others dress him.

There was a period of time when he was younger where he tried to conform, wearing the traditional suits that men in their country wore (though always with some flamboyant cravat or tie or handkerchief as if trying to hint at or acknowledge the person that he really was even then). But as he got older, became more withdrawn and reclusive he started yielding to his more eccentric nature and wore dress clothes that more closely resembled styles from his ancestors country. First he wore them at home, in the privacy of his estate, and then out in public and he was simply unapologetic about it. Sheryl liked that, the fact that he was unapologetic, resolute and unyielding in a way…except maybe to her.

As she was sitting she thought of what they'd done only moments ago.

They'd snuck off to a deserted hallway in the back of the manor and had sex right there and she was certain that Rufus had to have bruises on his shoulders from how tightly she'd gripped him just as surely as her back still ached from its awkward arch against the wall.

She thought about how they had plans tonight to finally have sex on that long impressive Barma dining table just like she'd been wanting to for a while now (awhile now being years if you counted when she'd been a young teenager). Just the thought of that alone, her Ru lifting her up onto the table, spreading her, was enough to make the dull conversations around her seem worth it. After all, all she had to do was endure it for another few hours.

She thought of how they'd had sex in her room the night before, her holding on desperately to one of the thick posts of her bed as he took her from behind, his thrusts passionate and decisive as he reached around and fondled her breast and then towards the end used the other hand too as he kissed behind her neck right where the hair started to grow, whispering her name and every now and then an obscene word from _that _country which she admittedly enjoyed. She could still feel the pleasant _ache_ from those activities and a new sense of longing and hunger taking over her from these remembrances and the promise that it would soon happen again.

She pulled out her fan and began to fan herself, after all the room was much too stifling. Occasionally she would peek over at Ru, also fanning himself and apparently in a very, argumentative conversation himself.

Once though in the midst of Sheryl looking at him their eyes met and they exchanged quaint little smiles, harmless, friendly, a little nod of acknowledgement that looked innocent enough on the outside when in reality there was so much more to it than that, so much more behind it, contained in it, so much more hinted at and playing out behind those two even, resolute sets of eyes.

-M. Palovna


End file.
